


please don't let it get to me

by plinys



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Jealousy, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 02:26:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14415636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: “It didn't mean anything,” Sara says, the words so harsh that Ava isn't sure if she's talking about the man from the mission or about her.“Okay,” Ava says, the word sounding lifeless even to her own ears.





	please don't let it get to me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whiteknightswan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiteknightswan/gifts).



> zoe bought me the wonderful pink shethority sweater, so while wearing my new sweater i wrote her this sad smut that she wanted. im pretty sure nobody other than zoe wants this but here we are.

She knows she doesn't have any right to feel this way, that rationally that she shouldn't be this upset over it, because it's nothing really... 

It was just to find out information.

But she can't get the image out of her head. Of Sara leaning just a bit too close to that man, her laugh a bit too loud, her hands sliding on the inside of his jacket and - 

It never made it  _ that far _ . 

Stopped when they got the information.

But she still had to see far more than she would have ever wanted to. Still had to face Sara’s team after that and smile and insist that she didn't feel this terrible mix of jealousy and self doubt inside of herself, such that it nearly made her sick, at the memory of how the Legends had come to their intell.  

“You're not seriously still jealous, are you,” Sara asks, once they’re alone. The words said almost carelessly. 

Ava knows her emotions show too clearly on her face. It's always been one of her worst faults, and Sara being able to see right through her even when she tried to cover it up only made things worse.

“I'm not,” Ava insists, even though she is.

Even though they both know she is.

Sara snorts at that, her disbelief clear.

“I was never  _ jealous _ ,” Ava says, stressing the word. 

She wants to ignore it. Wants to forget all about it. Wants to focus on being here and now. On the way she had felt when Sara had grabbed her hand before she turned to go back to the Bureau and asked her to  _ check something  _ in her  _ bedroom _ with a tone that implied exactly what Sara had wanted. 

A question that Ava had been hoping for since the second she had shown up to see what new disaster the Legends had caused.

Though now…

Now she almost wishes she had insisted upon writing the report.

It's not technically a lie, it's not jealousy that she feels.

It's something worse than that.

But letting Sara thinks that she's  _ jealous  _ is easier.

She watches Sara's expression carefully. The way she twists up her lips into a bitter face even as she's undoing the buttons on her blouse. Even though there's only one way that this evening was ever going to end. 

“Look,” Sara says, the words carrying an almost indifferent tone. “It wasn’t like that. You know that. I don’t get why you’re acting like it was a big deal. It’s not like I was flirting with him because I wanted him to fuck me.”

There's something about the way she says it. Ava knows rationally that this is about the mission. That Sara is meaning to say that she flirted with him for intel, but Ava can read between the lines, can read the tone that intended to hurt. 

It’s all her terrible insecurities from before, that Sara was not the type to be happy with just one person, that Ava was never going to be good enough for her. That had been back before when she'd thought she was just a normal human and had been worried that being just one woman would not be enough to keep Sara satisfied forever.

A thought which she had felt terrible about later when she had been drinking in her apartment alone wishing beyond anything that she could have Sara back for just one moment.

But now… That terrible traitorous thought comes back again. 

Here in a place that was supposed to be safe and them.

Ava unable for a moment to convince herself that Sara wants her here, even though they're standing together in her bedroom, even though Sara had been the one to stop her from going back to the Bureau. 

After all, wasn't this the very same place that she called it all off last time.

“I'm sorry,” Ava says, even though she knows those aren't the right words. 

She's not certain what the right words are.

Not certain there is a way to apologize for something she knows she can't fix, for never being good enough for Sara, for knowing that she never will be, never can be.

“What does it matter,” Sara asks, the words falling from her mouth with a bitter twist. Deliberate. Intending to hurt. Because she is hurting too. “It’s not like you  _ love _ me, so what does it matter, if I flirt with some guy to get the job done.”

Ava sucks in a sharp breath. Not bothering to hide the hurt clear on her features.

She'd been trying.

They'd been trying.

The fact that she could bring herself to say those words was because she didn't believe herself worthy of them, didn't believe herself capable of them… But she was trying.

That surely had to count for something. 

“It matters,” she insists, even though her voice breaks. “We’re still - this is - we’re together aren't we?”

Aren't they? 

She had thought…

They never had talked about it. Not since defeating Mallus. The whole situation of what exactly they were still hung in the balance. Rationally Ava had always know that at some point they would have to talk about it. That she would have to give voice to all those doubts in her head - the ones that said she didn't deserve this, that she wasn't real, that Sara deserved to love a  _ human _ \- even if it would mean losing the one good thing she still had.

She just hadn't thought that it would be so soon.

That it would be like this.

Sara’s not looking at her, and that feels like the worst of it, that this could be the end again, for real this time, and Ava doesn't even get to look at her.

“Please,  I know I’m not -”  _ human, normal, real,  _ “- But I thought… It’s stupid I-” she can't finish the sentence can't bring herself to say the words.

She can feel tears burning at the edges of her eyes but she refuses to cry in front of Sara again. Not over this. She can't. She won’t allow herself to.

“It didn't mean anything,” Sara says, the words so harsh that Ava isn't sure if she's talking about the man from the mission or about her.

She's not sure which would be easier to handle.

Which lie would hurt less.

“Okay,” Ava says. Even though it's not okay. Even though she's not certain it will ever be okay again. 

“It's not like I was going to fuck him.”

“Okay,” Ava says again, the word sounding lifeless even to her own ears.

“It's not like I wanted to fuck him.”

Another “Okay” that she barely believes.

“Ava,” Sara says her name like  _ that  _ soft even though they don't have a right to be not with the way today has gone. Soft even with a touch of bitterness underneath.

They're all sorts of fucked up now, and sometimes Ava can't help but wonder how they got here, or how they can go back to that good thing they once were. 

“Ava,” she says again and this time finally Ava looks up to meet her gaze.

“Yes, Sara?”

“Fuck me,” it's not a question or an offer, but a command. One that Ava is unwilling to disobey. Uncertain that she even could. 

A part of her always wonders if this was part of her programming too.

If these feelings for Sara, the ones she kept coming back to, were written into her very code. A fabricated past that led inevitably to this moment. 

“Fuck me, Ava,” Sara says again. “Remind me that I’m yours.”

She needs this.

They both do.

In some terribly fucked up away.

So she does.

She kisses Sara with the fire and passion that used to come so naturally to them. That still comes together after a moment, when she ignores the hesitation and doubts in her mind, when she ignores the way her eyes sting with tears threatening to fall. 

Kissing Sara is easy.

Kissing Sara is natural.

Kissing Sara is inevitable.

Kissing Sara is what she was made for.

Hands move quickly against each other tugging layers off of each other. Ava’s blazer hits the floor soon enough, her white button up pushed down to join it a moment. Shedding away the layers that she wears like protection. The vestige of a purpose that she clings to when the doubts in her head become too much and too loud. 

They move together, a systematic push and pull, that ends at Sara’s bed.

Ends where it was always intending to. 

The kiss breaking only as she pushes Sara down onto the bed. 

Ava forces herself to memorize the image of Sara here and now, naked against her bedsheets, staring up at Ava with want and desire, rather than the annoyance or bitterness that had been there moments before.

“I love you,” Sara says, the words so easily. Words that Ava doesn’t believe. Cannot no matter how much she wants to. No matter how many times Sara says them.

Words that she cannot bring herself to say back, no matter how much she desperately wants to.

She doesn’t deserve this.

This look of love.

Not when she isn’t really - not when she can’t ever be certain if  _ it _ is real, if anything she’s ever felt has been real at all. 

“Only you,” Sara insists. “Only ever you.”

It’s supposed to be a reassurance. Ava knows that. And yet for some reason she feels the opposite of that. 

The tears are worse now. Spilling down her cheeks before she can stop them. She catches a concerned look in Sara’s face. Knows now that she could stop all of this. That she could pull back and insist that she wasn’t in the mood and that Sara wouldn’t push her. Even after everything, this much Sara would grant her without hesitation.

But the same familiar fear comes back.

The one that says any moment could be the last, any kiss could be her last, and she doesn’t want to waste this.

She can’t.

She kisses Sara to hide her tears. Kisses her until all that matters is the feeling of Sara’s lips against hers, the press of Sara’s body against hers, the needy noises spilling out of Sara without any shame filling a room that had once been heavy with tension and words unspoken.

They don’t need words now.

They just need bodies.

This she knows how to do.

This she can do without thinking.

Taking Sara apart is as easy as breathing, so natural, as if she had always been meant for this. Perhaps she was. Perhaps that wouldn’t be so bad. Perhaps knowing  that loving Sara was not a choice, but a part of her nature, would make this an easier burden to bear. Perhaps that would stop the tears that fall far too easily, that made their kisses taste like salt and regret even as they move against each other chasing relief.

Perhaps it doesn’t matter.

Nothing really does in the end.

All that matters is this here. This moment that she has with a woman that claims to love her. With a woman that she wants so desperately to believe.

It does not take long. 

The anger, and bitterness, and  _ jealousy _ , and passion spilling over all at once. Coming together in the aggressive push and pull, in the rapid movements of her hand, deliberate and with a purpose. Harder and faster, just the way she knows Sara likes. Just the way she knows Sara needs.

She knows just the moment before. When Sara’s noises of pleasure become faster, more sudden, air forced from her lungs over and over again until she comes with a broken sound that could almost be Ava’s name on her lips.

This too Ava commits to memory.

One of the few real ones that she has.

The image of Sara in front of her, head through backwards, hips thrusting up to meet Ava’s hand, chest heaving as she falls apart.

She’s beautiful.

So beautiful.

Just for  _ Ava _ . 

She works Sara slowly through the aftershocks, until her body stops shaking, until she is laying there thoroughly spent. Cheeks flushed and eyes closed. Looking more at peace that Ava has ever felt.

Ava shifts to move away. She should leave now, while things she still good, while Sara is satisfied with her. While there still might be a chance that she thought herself to mean those words she had said so easily before. 

“I should be getting back,” Ava says, choosing her words carefully, as she pulls away from Sara. Putting more and more distance between them. Telling herself that it is silly to feel hurt over this. To still be bothered by this. When it was nothing. When Sara had said that it was nothing. “I need to write and report and…”

A report.

On the mission.

Where Sara had been pressed up against someone else and -

“Ava.”

There’s a hand against her wrist holding her in place. A soft touch against her pulse. One Ava could breakaway from if she really wanted to. 

She doesn’t want to.

She never wants to. 

“Stay the night,” Sara says, voice soft and stated, “Let me take care of you.”

“I’m fine,”  Ava insists. 

Even though she’s not.

“I don’t need anything,” Ava says.

Even though the only thing she needs is the woman right in front of her.

Sara’s eyes open slowly, and Ava hates the look that lingers there. The one that shifts to some sort of realization. Seeing through Ava even when she wishes that she wouldn’t. Even when it would be easier if they did not know each other so well.

The soft “Oh,” that falls from Sara’s lips does not make her feel better.

In fact, if anything it makes her feel worse.

This time she cannot stop the tears when they fall. Unbidden and unwelcome, spilling down her cheeks unable to be held off, ugly sobs that manage to consume her. She knows she should turn away. That Sara doesn’t deserve to see her like this. But she can’t bring herself to do so.

“Oh, Ava.”

“I’m fine,” she says again, and it’s not the right words. 

They’re never the right words, but it doesn’t matter, because a moment later Sara is tugging her back in. Down onto the bed that Ava hasn’t yet been able to bring herself to stay the night in, not since they started this up again. This time they don’t crash together with passion, but rather something else, something the aches within her bone deep.

It’s a little awkward. The positions not quite right. Ava’s too tall to be cuddled properly. One of the many flaws she’s found with a body that was apparently made for perfection and efficiency, but they manage somehow to come together. To fit together in a way that feels close enough. Ava being held by a woman that wants to hold her, for some inexplicable reason.

“I’m sorry,” Sara says. 

The words seem wrong coming from her.

As if she had anything to be sorry for.

As if this weren’t just Ava’s own doubts and insecurities coming up again and again. Endlessly. The one constant in her life. The one  _ flaw  _ that she knew was truly of her own making, and not some preprogrammed notion.

“I’m so sorry,” Sara says, the words again and again. Pressing kisses lightly against Ava’s skin. No heat. No passion. Just a softness that Ava knows she doesn’t deserve. “I love you, you know that, right?”

The words don’t fit right on her lips. 

It’s not the right moment. 

Not the right time. 

But she fears that if she doesn’t say them now, she might never get the chance to again.

“I love you too.”

  
  



End file.
